Always Beaten
by Cowpie Surprise
Summary: [One Shot] Edmund tries to be good and to be the hero, but is always beaten by Peter. And whenever Edmund tries to stick up for himself, everyone is against him. To him, the world is so unfair.


**Hi all! I couldn't RESIST putting this up. Anyway, I know you guys want the sequel for A Difficult Love, and you're going to get it! However, I have two tests and two quizzes tomorrow, so it shall come! (I am NOT slacking. You'll see)**

**Always Beaten**

Edmund sat lazily in the front yard of the Pevensie home making his toy soldiers attack each other. Peter was on the steps, doing his schoolwork, and Susan was inside helping for dinner. On the other side of the small yard, Lucy sat on a swing, which was attached to the great branch of the tree above her.

"Edmund, come push me!" Lucy squealed. "I can't touch the ground with my feet!"

"Let Peter do it," Edmund replied.

"I'm busy. Please Edmund, you can always get back to your soldiers," Peter smirked.

Edmund looked at his older brother. "And you can always get back to your schoolwork."

"Edmund," was the stern reply, and Edmund rolled his eyes and walked over to his little sister.

_I'm so tired of being told what to do. All they have to say is one word and I have to obey them. Stupid Peter just acts that way because Dad's not here. _

Edmund gave his sister a light push and she swung forward and backward, pumping up speed with her small legs until she was swinging at a moderate pace. Edmund returned to his soldiers as Peter said,

"That didn't long now, did it?"

"Well, if you thought it wouldn't take so long, how come you didn't do it?" Edmund snapped.

"Lucy asked you to do it."

Edmund glared at his brother. "Well, I did it." He continued playing with his toys.

After a few minutes there was a loud thump, and both boys heard small cries. Edmund turned to see Lucy had fallen out of the swing and hit her head.

_Now's my chance. I don't usually help Lucy, but I can prove to Peter I can be better if I comfort her._

Edmund sprinted across the yard, but Peter was at the swing in three long strides and at Lucy's side only a hair longer than Edmund.

"You okay Lucy?" Peter asked gently. She shook her head, sobbing, as tears flowed out of her eyes.

"Lucy, are you alright--" started Edmund.

"Why didn't you help her?" Peter asked, turning angrily onto his brother.

"What! I was just about to ask if she was alright!" Edmund protested.

"She just shook her head! Didn't you see?"

"Well, it was because I--"

"You're so lazy, Ed. Not even caring for your own sister when she gets injured!" Peter yelled.

"I was going to help her, but you reached her first!" Edmund finally got out.

"Come now. You never help Lucy. You're always just evil to her," Peter rolled his eyes.

Tears now brimmed Edmund's eyes. He blinked them back. "Maybe I wanted to change! You just didn't give me a chance! I was trying to help, but you had to go be the hero and beat me to her! You always offer to do something for everyone! You even do your chores without asking, and you never did it when Dad was here! You're just trying to be Dad, the man of the household, bossing me around! It's so unfair! You love telling me what to do because it makes you look better! You never tell Susan or Lucy what to do because they're girls! You always leap in to save the day, so why can't you--"

"What's going on?" Susan and Mrs. Pevensie came to the front door.

"Lucy fell from the swing," Peter informed, holding his younger sister.

Susan rushed over and enveloped Lucy in a hug. Mrs. Pevensie kissed Lucy on the spot where she had hit her head.

"But why was Edmund yelling?" Mrs. Pevensie asked finally.

"He was mad at me for telling him to help Lucy," Peter spoke up.

"I was going to help Lucy; you didn't have to tell me!" Edmund retorted.

Mrs. Pevensie said, "Edmund, how can you not listen to your brother when Lucy is hurt?"

"Did you hear what I just said?" Edmund yelled, feeling the tears come back.

"Don't you talk to me like that? To your room, and no supper!" Mrs. Pevensie ordered.

The tears now came. Edmund wiped them away, then shot into the house. He passed a table holding Mr. Pevensie's picture, and he grabbed that before going upstairs and slamming his door shut. Edmund flopped on the bed and began to cry into his pillow.

_Dad! Come back. Come home! Things are absolutely miserable here without you._

His stomach rumbled, telling him how hungry he was. It just wasn't fair. Peter always had the advantage because he was older. Edmund gazed at the picture of his father and sighed. Dad would have listened reasonably to both of them. He knew he was his father's favorite because they were so alike.

It suddenly hit him that he had left his favorite toy soldiers outside. Without thinking, he opened his door and ran down the stairs and into the hall.

"Edmund!" Mrs. Pevensie said irritably. "I told you to--"

"Please, Mum, my soldiers are outside," Edmund begged.

"Get them later," Mrs. Pevensie said calmly.

"Can't I just go out and get them?" Edmund asked, annoyed.

"No. Back upstairs," Mrs. Pevensie nodded her head towards the stair case.

Edmund felt his tears spilling over his face. His father had given him those soldiers, and they were his most prized possession. Upstairs, in his room, Edmund pulled out a small tin box from underneath his bed. He was glad he didn't have to share a room, like Susan and Lucy did, as he lifted the lid off the box.

Inside was a nice amount of Turkish Delight. His father had given it to him before he left for the war, and Edmund ate some whenever he had to stay in his room without supper. He ate piece by piece until he was full, then closed the box and place it back in its hiding place until the next time he was punished.

He silently got ready for bed, and climbed in. The sun was still up and wouldn't set for another hour, but he got in bed anyway.

_When Dad comes back, everything will be alright. Peter won't be the boss of me anymore._

Edmund woke up in the middle of the night. Fear stabbed him as he saw lightning flash and the rain shatter against his window.

"My soldiers!" he cried, in a whisper. He threw the covers off and opened his door. Peering down the hall, all were asleep, and he put his slippers and robe on and ran downstairs. He unbolted the door and out into the torrent.

He searched blindly, getting drenched by the rain and dirty by the mud on the lawn. He finally found one…then two…and three…then four…and at last the five soldiers that he had brought out earlier.

His slippers sloshed against the hard wooden floor as he headed back upstairs, each soldier clutched tightly next to him. When he got up to the top, he slammed into his mother.

"What are you doing out now?" she hissed.

"I had to get my soldiers, Mum. They would've washed away," Edmund said.

"I told you to get them later. Change into dry clothes and go back to bed. You shall have no supper tomorrow either, for disobeying me," Mrs. Pevensie ordered.

Edmund walked around his mother without a word and slammed his door closed once again. He turned the light on and changed, then took a look at his slovenly soldiers.

The harsh looks on their painted faces were smudged away by the rain, and one soldier had his leg hanging off of it. Edmund knew he would have to glue it the next day. He stood them up as best as he could around the picture frame of his father and crawled into bed.

_This is horrible. Everything is horrible. Mum. Peter. Susan. Lucy. I hate them all. They make me miserable and lonely. I hate them, and one day, I'll get them back, and they'll wish they had never scolded me._


End file.
